PICK UP THESE PIECES
& BUILD A LEGO HOUSE.
** what a wonderful day it was. the sun sending its rays out, full force. the leaves so delicate as they change colors and the trees shake them away. the colors in autumn so bright just before they lose it all. and what a better day than this to wander in a place of such beauty as the Blossom Field? these were the thoughts of the ginger male who strolled there now, anyways. the skip in his step was subtle but most defiantly there. the chestnut stallion was most pleased with the weather and the time of year. fall was special to the brute, for sure and certain. it brought back the fondest memories from his puphood. fall was the last time that his pack had been whole. sad, yes, but also happy. bittersweet, some may call it. LEGO here just focused on the positive and cast away the negative. plus fall was just the perfect season in general. it wasn't too warm like summer, nor too cold like winter. it didn't rain all the time like spring. and it was beautiful to look at. sweet perfection, pure and simple.
** the orange pelted lad strolled at an easy pace through the tangles of flowers. the sweet scent of them tickled his nose and it twitched. a sneeze blew up from the adolescent and his shaggy pelt flew out. this only caused the boy to chuckle. his little walk continued and he now wore an easy smile upon his maw. his oceanic blue-green eyes watched as the pups frolicked all around him. it reminded him of his past, his own puppy years. and that one face, HER face, popped into his mind. he sighed, a sound containing eons of sadness and loss. yep, this boy had had it bad for the little doll face and he defiantly still did. swinging his head around to face forward, the gangster laid his eyes on ash and char just as his first paw fell into it. he paused, two pads resting in the destruction and the other pair in the blossoms. it sort of reminded him of the past he had just been thinking of. it was so beautiful and sweet then suddenly it withered and was burned, dead.
** he turned his stocky frame around to face back to the nice, innocent side of the field. casting his gaze around, he caught sight of a sandy coat. the flame of memory sparked in his mind and he, the ever faithful moth, was drawn towards the shape. it turned out to be a femme as he had hoped against hope. he padded silently forward, coming up next to her, but out of biting range lest this female be rather... vicious. for a moment the stag tottered, unsure. finally his liquid voice flowed. my little bird? is that you, doll face? the smooth sound of his British lyrics twined beautifully through the still air. in eyes was a guarded hope. a burning curiosity unmatched. he unconsciously took another eager step towards her. it had to be her, THE her, it just had to be. she looked exactly the same, just bigger.
** his tail swayed and his lips twisted into a goofy grin. this was her.
sweet words, sweet riddles.
L E G O
|| lad || adolescent || to be tied to Doll || wanderer ||
|| CRS ||
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